


Does Your Father Know?

by OlyaNeverWrites, wewillalwaysenduphere



Series: Alex Rider Musical Fics [3]
Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: ABBA: it's here it's there it's every-fucking-where, Crack, Disco Music: It Comes From Everywhere, John Rider: A Manwhore, M/M, Yassen expresses himself in song!, Yassen: Catnip for Riders, musical verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlyaNeverWrites/pseuds/OlyaNeverWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: Alex Rider is in love and in lust with Yassen Gregorovich, a dangerous older man.Yassen Gregorovich is interested but not sure Alex is man enough for him just yet.John Rider wants to kill Yassen for even entertaining the thought of touching his young, innocent, darling son.Helen Rider just wants to have some tea under the Italian sun.Or:That scene fromMamma Mia, but it's Yassen singing to Alex while John spies on them like the world's most deadly chaperone.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Series: Alex Rider Musical Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173812
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Does Your Father Know?

_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_

Alex Rider as THE BOY; son of John; love interest of Yassen; one of Malagosto and SCORPIA’s brightest prospects.

Yassen Gregorovich, Codename Cossack as THE OBJECT OF DESIRE; legendary assassin, feared and revered worldwide, former pupil of John Rider, sometimes described as having “chiseled lips” and “long lashes.”

John Rider, codename Hunter, as THE FATHER; a former MI6 spy and mentor to Yassen; defected to SCORPIA shortly after the birth of his son; now an instructor at Malagosto, the training school for SCORPIA’s elite assassins.

_ AND _

Helen as THE MOTHER; John’s wife; and the only voice of FUCKING REASON.

  
  
  


_** Scene 1 - Many Meetings; Alex arrives at Malagosto (midsummer) **_

Alex steps off the small motorboat and onto the pier at Malagosto Island. He strides purposefully through a half-collapsed archway that opens onto a courtyard with far more life and structural integrity than the building’s crumbling facade would suggest. Sweat drips down Alex’s face and plasters his t-shirt to his back and chest. He is not at all used to the hot Italian summer. As his eyes wander around the centuries-old courtyard, he passes right by his father John, arms outstretched for an embrace, clearly excited to see his son. Instead, his gaze is focused on a man currently engaged in a hand-to-hand sparring session with another student. Seemingly without any difficulty, the object of his attention throws the other man over his back and to the ground, completely heedless of the twenty pounds his opponent has on him.

Yassen, satisfied with his performance, nods to the student who (after catching his breath) bows respectfully. Yassen wipes the sweat from his brow and reaches for a water bottle at the edge of the ring, taking a long drink. He is SHIRTLESS. Alex is staring. 

Then, their eyes meet. Yassen, who knows this can only be Hunter’s son, pales a bit but keeps himself mostly in control. He’s had well over a decade of experience to perfect a mask of bland indifference that conceals any inappropriate emotions he might feel in this moment. Alex, on the other hand, gasps, blushes, and then turns on his heel and quickly backtracks to John, finally giving his father a belated embrace. As Hunter enthusiastically squeezes his son, Alex sneaks another glance at Yassen. And is brought back to the circumstances under which he has seen that face before...

_ Midsummer’s Eve _

_ The lights dim and the room turns hazy with smoke. The air fills with the sound of chatter, clinking glasses, and disco music. We are in a bar in Venice. Patrons laugh and drink and dance. Nobody pays much attention to the young man with blonde hair and brown eyes ordering a drink at one side of the bar. He casually angles his body, leaning against the scuffed, sticky wood with his back to an empty corner; from here, he has a good view of the rest of the room. It is his last night of freedom for a long, long time and he intends to make the most of it. Then, an older, attractive stranger slips into the bar. He does not walk so much as glide as he moves through the room. He has chiseled lips and long, long lashes, close-cropped blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. The younger man is transfixed as he stares. The older man gives him a barely perceptible nod as he sits down at the other end of the bar.  _

_ The younger man approaches and introduces himself as Alex. The older man gives him a considering look and a moment later, a small smile. “Yassen,” he replies. Alex offers to buy him a drink. Alex offers to dance with him. But Yassen orders his own drink and declines politely. In response, Alex tosses his head and strides onto the dancefloor. Alex has moves. And a nice ass. And he knows it. Yassen raises an eyebrow. Alex keeps dancing, grinding on another man beneath colorful specks of light thrown by the disco ball overhead, while maintaining eye contact with Yassen. None of the patrons have ever seen a dancer, male or female, manage to swivel their hips in such a stunning display of flexibility and eroticism. As Alex’s dancing threatens to tip over the line from suggestive to obscene, Yassen opens his mouth and starts singing. He has a remarkable vibrato and impeccable breath control. _

[YASSEN]

You're so hot, teasing me 

_ Alex looks hopeful for a moment, but when Yassen doesn’t move to join him on the dancefloor, the expression morphs to sadness. Relaxed against the bar, Yassen keeps singing. _

[YASSEN]

So you're blue

but I can't take a chance  on a boy like you

That's something I couldn't do

_ Alex’s resigned expression transforms into one of defiance. He thrusts his hips with renewed enthusiasm, alarming several of the less inebriated patrons who hastily scramble away from the dancefloor. Yassen is not the most expressive individual, but there is a hint of amusement about his long-lashed eyes and chiseled lips. The aforementioned lashes help to conceal Yassen’s gaze, which is now fixed on Alex as Yassen continues to sing. _

[YASSEN]

There's that look in your eyes

I can read in your face

that your feelings are driving you wild

Ah, but boy you're only a child

_ Yassen finishes his eye-wateringly expensive whiskey and gets up, seemingly utterly uninterested in the passionate performance Alex just delivered on the dancefloor. He begins a leisurely stroll towards the exit. Alex continues his suggestive writhing for a few more beats before moving to intercept Yassen. Yassen turns as Alex approaches, casting an unreadable glance down at Alex’s hand, which is now gripping his arm. Alex relaxes his hold. Leans in. “One dance,” he says. His eyes are bright with exertion and alcohol. Yassen hesitates. His instincts are telling him that this is a bad idea. He has survived for too long on those instincts to ignore them completely. But for some reason, Alex intrigues him. Maybe it’s the boy’s raw fire, or the boldness, or the fact that Yassen’s icy glance, which would send most people screaming for the hills, seems to draw Alex in rather than deter him. Yassen allows himself to be pulled in the direction of the dancefloor. “One dance,” he concedes. _

_ Alex draws Yassen into a dance. His movements now are more subdued than in his earlier performance, but no less sensual. Both Alex and Yassen move with a liquid grace that holds an edge of lethality. Though they have just met, they move well together. Hands skim shoulders and waists. There is a clinging heat, stemming not just from the Italian summer night. Their faces are a hair’s breadth away from each other as Yassen continues to sing, lower now, and to Alex alone. _

[YASSEN]

Well I can dance with you honey

If you think it's funny

Does your father know that you're out?

_ Alex murmurs something in response. Yassen replies. Alex answers, a mischievous gleam in his eye, a teasing hand on Yassen’s chest, right above his heart. Yassen moves closer still, though their faces do not touch. An arm snakes around Alex’s waist. Yassen speaks - sings - softly into Alex’s ear. Alex leans into Yassen’s touch as he half-listens, the words blurred by the noise of the bar and the alcohol in his blood. _

[YASSEN]

And I can chat with you baby

Flirt a little maybe

Does your father know that you're out?

_ As the saying goes, dancing is nothing but the vertical expression of horizontal desires, and Alex and Yassen are expressing some very specific horizontal desires with their current dance. Alex may have been the one to initiate, but it is Yassen who takes control. While Alex is younger, his frame is already broader than Yassen’s. By the time he is fully grown, he will certainly have a few inches on Yassen. Neither of them minds that in the least and Alex allows himself to be guided through the dance in a whirlwind of dim lights and unspoken permissions. The frenetic disco changes to a slower song, and Yassen somehow manages to pull Alex even closer and murmurs into his ear, making the boy shiver against him. Yassen moves like a trained dancer, and while Alex has kept up until now, he stumbles at Yassen’s whispered words. Alex blushes a furious red. Yassen takes in his flushed cheeks and smirks, satisfied with the result his words have wrought, but steadies Alex and pulls him close again. One dance turns into two, turns into three, and they quickly lose track of time. _

_ The combination of Alex and alcohol lowers Yassen’s guard more than he would normally permit. He allows the smallest bit of his attention to be lost in the other man’s touch and he finds himself engaging with his young partner’s teasing gibes. Alex’s state of intoxication does not seem to dull the edges of his razor-sharp banter. _

_ The hour grows late. As the clock approaches midnight and there is no sign of flagging interest from either party, Alex becomes hopeful he’ll be able to take Yassen home for the night. An auspicious send-off to the normal world. Two minutes to midnight, a song ends and Yassen steps out of the dance, pulling the pair towards the edge of the dancefloor. Alex beams. It looks as though the evening is going to go his way. Alex’s eyes flick to Yassen’s mouth, a knowing smile on his face. Yassen gives him a wink and leans in - for a brief kiss on the cheek, before bidding him an unambiguous good-bye. Alex looks genuinely surprised that his seduction attempt has failed, and gazes after Yassen in disbelief as the older man saunters to the exit. Yassen does not look back once. He seems to have already forgotten Alex. Out on the street, Yassen smiles to himself. In the bar, Alex orders another drink and vows that this will not be the last time they meet. _

_ Present Day, Malagosto _

We return to the present day in Malagosto as Alex is still hugging his father, John. Yassen appears relaxed and comfortable with the situation, while Alex seems rather stressed and mildly shell-shocked. John, one of the world’s most legendary assassins and current director of Malagosto, the academy for Scorpia’s killer elite, is blissfully oblivious to the events of the night before.

John finally releases his son and calls over a still-shirtless Yassen. He is eager to introduce his former protege to his son. Alex offers a strained smile. Yassen appears blandly indifferent. Still oblivious to any discomfort, John suggests that Yassen give Alex some personal attention before he heads off on his next assignment, since Alex is already on track to be one of the best of the next generation of assassins to emerge from Malagosto. Yassen agrees with a simple nod. Alex swallows.

John senses a peculiar tension in the air but decides to leave his son and former apprentice alone for now. There are many plausible explanations for a strained first meeting. Yassen’s reputation intimidates adults with more skill and experience than Alex has years of life, and it is Alex’s first day at a school where his heritage sends already high expectations to near-impossible standards. Yassen and Alex make their way over to where Yassen was sparring with the other student moments before. John watches Alex walk away and frowns a little as his son surreptitiously glances at the Russian assassin before quickly jerking his head away, as though he does not want to be caught staring. Alex is many things, but timid is not one of them. Something is up.

As Alex and Yassen make their way to the mats, Alex sneaks another glimpse of Yassen. He was thrown by the revelation that Yassen Gregorovich, the legendary assassin who figured in so many of his father’s stories growing up (once Alex was old enough to learn what John Rider actually did for a living), is the same man who Alex spent hours plastered against last night. But Alex is resilient and his shock is starting to dissolve into appreciation for the Rider family’s “luck of the Devil,” which can be the only explanation for how the captivating man from the Venitian bar with the clever words and calloused hands (not to mention those chiseled lips) is the same person who will be taking charge of Alex’s training today. And Alex will be damned if he lets the opportunity slip away again.

Alex doesn’t look directly at Yassen when he speaks. “Let’s pick up where we left off last night.”

Yassen’s jaw stiffens almost imperceptibly, and Alex’s eyes are drawn once again to his chiseled lips. The man’s grace is not diminished by any discomfort he may feel. “Last night never happened. I’ve drawn a veil over last night.” He glances down at the watch that is conspicuously not on his wrist. “Oh my God. Look at the time. I’ve got work to do.”

Alex looks skeptical. “Work?”

Yassen nods, a tiny jerk of his head. Controlled, just like everything else about him. “A little sparring and sharpshooting.”

Alex snorts. He can’t help it. The man’s a legend, his skills won’t suffer if he shaves a few minutes off of his practice time to talk to Alex. More likely, he’s just allergic to feelings. “Come on. You don’t mess with a masterpiece. You can’t ignore the chemistry between us.”

Yassen is amused by Alex’s brazenness, but he tries not to show. “Little boys who play with fire get their fingers burned.” 

This semi-threatening statement completely fails to deter the youngest Rider. If anything, Alex looks more excited. As Yassen and Alex prepare to spar, Yassen angles his head slightly towards Alex (keeping his mouth concealed from John) and sings, the words scarcely louder than breathing.

[YASSEN]

Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down boy

That's no way to go

Does your father know?

Alex and Yassen start to spar. Alex is excellent, but to someone of Yassen’s training and experience, he is also very conspicuously not fighting close to full capacity. As Alex tries to pull his punches and say something clever, Yassen mercilessly sends him crashing to the mat. John, who has been watching their interactions with trepidation, looks relieved. Alex gives a wink to Yassen, thinking the man did what he did solely to throw his very protective father off the trail. Alex bounces to his feet, ready for more. Yassen shakes his head and beats Alex handily again. And again. The boy does not seem to get the message and Yassen concludes that a different approach is called for. The next time Alex is knocked down, Yassen pins him to the mat (in a hold that is perhaps firmer and more painful than is necessary) and does not let go. Alex wriggles on the mat under him, seemingly trying to extract himself from the man’s iron hold. Mostly, he’s just trying to grind on Yassen. The superfluous pelvic thrusts are not lost on the assassin, who allows himself to roll his eyes. Nobody is close enough to see them. After a few more moments and a pointed dig into a more painful pressure point on Alex’s shoulder, Yassen releases Alex and helps him up. Alex looks supremely self-satisfied. And his hand lingers on Yassen’s wrist a bit too long. 

[YASSEN]

Take it easy (take it easy)

Try to cool it boy

Take it nice and slow

Does your father know?

John has now moved away, but keeps an eye on the sparring session. He is increasingly suspicious of his son’s behaviour. Alex, who has been known to explode ordnance in response to a contested game of UNO, seems in an uncharacteristically good mood given how soundly Yassen is thrashing him in every bout. The scene ends with John Rider looking concerned, contemplative, and confused.

_** Scene 2 - the Manual Method; the shooting range, Malagosto **_

At John’s behest, Yassen continues to give Alex one-on-one training. Today, they are at the shooting range. Several other Malagosto students are there, but they are mostly focused on their own shooting. Yassen assembles and disassembles a rifle and then instructs Alex to do the same, drilling him on the specifics of the weapon. Once he is satisfied, the shooting commences. Alex falls below Yassen’s standards. Well below. The first shot doesn’t go anywhere near the target. Neither does the second, or the third. When Alex eventually reloads, he puts the bullets in backwards and after Yassen fixes them, Alex positions the gun upside-down. His enthusiasm is not dampened by these errors; instead, he keeps shooting wildly in the general direction of the targets. After several shots come perilously close to the other students in the range (shots that would be considered excellent if Alex were aiming for a spot an inch in front of their faces), everyone makes a hasty retreat aside from Yassen. When Alex’s aim does not improve substantially in response to Yassen’s verbal corrections, Yassen has little choice but to take a more hands-on approach--which quickly leads to him lying on top of Alex’s body and moving him into the right position that way. It is all very  _ Ghost _ . Yassen tells Alex to breathe.  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . The shot gets closer to the center of the target. Yassen tells Alex to find a position that feels comfortable for him. Which Alex takes as all the invitation he needs to rub his ass suggestively against Yassen’s crotch. Yassen stoically ignores this.  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . The cycle repeats. Alex’s movements become more brazen.  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . Eventually Alex’s provocative fidgeting starts to get to Yassen - not that Alex notices until -  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . Yassen begins to sing, chidingly, in his ear. Alex tries to smother his shit-eating grin. He does not succeed.

[YASSEN]

I can see what you want

But you seem pretty young

to be searching for that kind of fun

So maybe I'm not the one

Alex looks insulted and returns his attention to the target with renewed concentration.  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . His best shot so far today. Alex, still pinned beneath Yassen, twists to look at him, pleased with himself. Yassen restrains an eyeroll.  _ “Acceptable.” _ Alex has not known Yassen long, but he understands the meaning of that “acceptable” and his smile becomes shier and more genuine. He shifts to face the target again, repositioning himself (and by coincidence or design, his adjustment to the perfect position includes unavoidable friction with unmentionable areas on Yassen’s front.)  _ Inhale _ .  _ Exhale _ .  _ Shoot _ . Bullseye. Alex knows that even to Yassen’s exacting standards, it is a good shot. He turns to Yassen again, his smile blinding.  _ “Acceptable?” _ he says teasingly. Yassen does not dignify the provocation with a response. Instead, he sings. Still lying on top of Alex.

[YASSEN]

Now you're so cute, I like your style

And I know what you mean

when you give me a flash of that smile

But boy you're only a child

Yassen is pressed into Alex’s back one moment and on his feet the next, leaving Alex frustrated, indignant, and somewhat spellbound. John stands in the shadows, watching. We do not know how long he has been there. He looks more perplexed and downright worried. Also slightly angry at Yassen.

_** Scene 3 - Denial is a river in Italy; a quiet spot in Malagosto ** _

Preferences get you killed but Yassen does enjoy peace and quiet and time away from attractive, provocative, and totally out-of-bounds assassins-in-training. Therefore, Yassen retreats to his favorite spot on Malagosto - a rocky, tree-lined cove, nearly inaccessible but for a well-hidden path. This quiet spot remains unnoticed by the rest of Malagosto. Usually. Alex is no slouch, especially when properly motivated, and after weeks of sexually charged lessons that get him nowhere (but also during which Yassen never tries very hard to dissuade his flirtations), he tracks Yassen down to confront him. As Yassen goes to this spot specifically to get away from the Riders and all of the baggage surrounding them, he is not pleased. 

Alex is frustrated. Alex is angry. After hinting and chasing and wondering for weeks, Alex has finally tracked Yassen down somewhere where the excuse of constant surveillance will not get in the way of a real conversation. Alex asks Yassen what the deal is. They were clearly into each other before and it doesn’t seem like that has changed. It’s not against any rules (and the idea of SCORPIA or Malagosto having anything close to  _ rules _ is just laughable) for an instructor and student to be in a relationship. So what gives? Yassen tries to communicate the complex, nuanced relationship he has with Alex and John Rider and how that prevents him from acting on any feelings or desires he MAY have (not that he’s admitting to anything) in the only way he knows how - through song.

[YASSEN]

Well I can dance with you honey

If you think it's funny

Does your father know that you're out?

“Screw John,” Alex says (a little disconcerted by the peppy instrumental accompaniment that seems to have followed him from Malagosto proper and is coming out of no speaker he can see, perfectly in sync with Yassen’s singing), “I'm not a kid anymore and he's not the boss of me!” 

“Well, technically he is, little Alex, it literally says so in your contract.” (Alex quietly seethes at being called “little Alex.” He’s already taller than Yassen.)

“Boo, Yassen, that hasn't stopped you from flirting with me and I've been playing footsie with you for five out of our last six meals together and you haven't complained once. Why are you so weird about this? It's not like you and my dad slept together or anything and now he's jeal... wait. Yassen.  _ Yassen _ . Yassen! You didn't. Hey! Come back here! Stop running away!”

As Yassen sprints across the rocks and away from Alex, he whispers to himself, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of his words.

[YASSEN]

And I can chat with you baby

Flirt a little maybe

Does your father know that you're out?

As Yassen darts up the steep slope, Alex in hot pursuit, John frantically shreds some very incriminating-looking photographs from his early days with SCORPIA (the topmost photo features a very beautiful, much younger Yassen, with angelic blonde hair and parted lips, looking at John with wide eyes from between messy sheets. A quick glance through the rest shows several rolls of film worth of a very young, nearly-nude Yassen Gregorovich covered strategically - or not, depending on the photo - by the folds of various rumpled coverlets.)

Helen looks from her husband up to the audience with a weary, put-upon expression and sighs. Her cell phone buzzes and her face lights up when she checks it. A text reading  _ Would you care for tea? There’s some business I could need a second pair of eyes on  _ from none other than Julia Rothman is on the screen. Helen casts one more rueful glance at John and shakes her head. “Sweetheart, I have to go! I have a, uh, a meeting with the Board!” she shouts, before skipping out of the room. John doesn’t answer, just reaches for the next stack of photos. He’s very convinced he has hidden his secret well so far. He is also very, very wrong.

_** Scene 4 - Teatime at Malagosto **_

It is evening; Helen Rider and Julia Rothman sit at a bistro table with matching chairs on a cliffside terrace overlooking the deep blue sea. On the table is an odd mix of a traditional English tea - a steaming pot of a smoky masala chai, scones, jam, clotted cream, and assorted tarts - and Mediterranean mezes. Just over the weathered marble railing, a narrow path below switches down the steep slope to a rocky cove. Few people know of it or use it; the path is treacherous and there are far better places to sunbathe or swim around the island. Julia and Helen are talking quietly. Julia reclines in her seat, regaling Helen with some story of petty board politics gone disastrously wrong as the other woman leans towards her, rapt. When Julia arrives at the part of the story when an apoplectic Zeljan Kurst discovers Brendan Chase managed to “accidentally” launch a missile strike that had the convenient collateral damage of one of Kurst’s “secret” side-businesses, Helen breaks into giggles. Julia smiles a slow smile, pleased as she always is when she makes Helen laugh. Helen wipes tears of mirth from her eyes as she catches her breath. They meet each other’s eyes, the fond expression on Julia’s face reflected in Helen’s own.

A sudden noise sets the two women on alert. Julia and Helen lean over the balcony railing. There are two people on the switches below, partially concealed by laurel and mastic trees that cling to the cliff. Soft laughter drifts up to the terrace; it sounds like two men. Julia squints. She has a slightly better vantage point. “Is that…” The two figures move out more into the open. 

“It sure looks like it,” Helen replies, amused. 

“Oh dear,” Julia murmurs. “John isn’t going to like this…” “This” is Cossack and Alex Rider, moving up the path. The slightly taller figure playfully jostles the slighter one, who remains perfectly balanced. And now that they are out in the open, we can see that they are standing awfully close to each other. And… is that Alex’s hand on Yassen Gregorovich’s ass? Julia looks at Helen, eyebrow raised.

Helen shrugs. “You’ve been away since Alex got here. They’ve been circling each other from the minute he got off the boat. Maybe even before,” she says speculatively. True, Alex is a teenager and a remarkably impulsive one at that, but she has never known him to throw his affections around carelessly. She’d put money on some sort of shared history that predates their first charged sparring match.

Helen seems relaxed about the whole thing, but then again, she never looks very stressed. Julia glances at her, a question in her eyes. Helen shrugs.  _ He’s old enough to make his own decisions. He could do worse than Yassen Gregorovich.  _ Julia holds her gaze, a slight tilt in her head.  _ Should we say something? _ Helen gives a shrug, small shake of the head.  _ It’s fine for now. Best not to interfere. _

Helen and Julia glance back to the figures. They are walking, Yassen ahead, Alex slightly behind. Alex tugs his arm playfully. The older man allows himself to be stopped, pulled back, turned. They are now standing inches apart. Alex looks down at his hand for a moment and releases Yassen’s arm abruptly - he seems apprehensive of pushing things too far, too fast - but Yassen catches it in his own hand. The wind rustles the trees and shadows play across Yassen’s face, but the man looks almost tender. It’s a bizarre expression to see on Cossack. As Julia and Helen watch from above, Yassen Gregorovich brings their joined hands to his mouth, lips brushing over Alex’s fingers. Alex watches, transfixed. Yassen pulls their hands to his chest, tugging Alex closer. Yassen has been murmuring quietly this entire time - have Helen or Julia  _ ever _ seen him talk that much at once? - while Alex appears dazzled. The words drift up. Yassen is singing.  _ Is that ABBA? _ Julia mouths.

[YASSEN]

Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down boy

That's no way to go

Does your father know?

“I’d be more worried about his mother right now,” Julia mutters. Helen stifles a laugh.

Alex seems to stumble over his words for a few seconds, then gives up on talking entirely in favor of a more direct approach, which involves a lot more skin-on-skin contact than Helen is prepared to see from her son. And instead of gently pushing Alex away like he has done during so many training sessions - those two are  _ not _ subtle - Yassen is reciprocating enthusiastically. Shirts are pulled over waistbands with nimble fingers and oh dear, is it getting handsy quickly. Helen considers herself to be a pretty sex-positive person, she’s made sure Alex knows he can feel comfortable expressing himself within reason (he is a SCORPIA operative after all, he doesn’t want to attract too much unwanted legal scrutiny...or STIs), but this is  _ not _ something she ever wants to see in person, nope nope nope, so it’s time to put a stop to that. Helen clears her throat very loudly. Alex gives a little yelp of surprise and he and Yassen, suddenly aware that they have an audience, spring apart. Both look up; Julia gives a little wave. Yassen’s face has returned to its resting blankness, and Alex looks flushed and rather guilty.

“Alex, sweetheart, Julia just got back and she and I were having some tea,” says Helen. Perhaps a little too loudly. She and Alex stare at each other with matching expressions, something adjacent to mild horror. 

Julia takes pity on them. “I hear your training is going well, Alex. And Cossack, you are clearly an excellent instructor. Gordon Ross says he’s never seen a Malagosto student’s marksmanship improve so much after a single lesson.” Alex’s face goes even pinker, and even Yassen shifts almost imperceptibly. Helen interprets this as Yassen feeling wildly uncomfortable.

“Yes, Ms. Rothman,” Yassen says. Respectful. Indifferent. Standard Cossack loquaciousness.

Julia turns to Alex. “And you, darling? You’ve heard stories about Malagosto all your life, but that’s no match for reality! I know this must be a big change.”

“Erm… yeah, it’s great. Absolutely smashing. You know me, I get off on adrenaline. I’m a lot hotter here, but so is everybody else,” he seems to register the words that have just come out of his mouth and his eyes flicker toward Yassen in alarm. “What I meant to say was, it’s just that the climate is different and I’m sweaty a lot of the time, especially when we’re doing hand-to-hand and he’s on top of me…” Alex looks like he wants to sink into the pathway. Yassen is eyeing the cliff’s edge longingly.

“He’s just digging himself deeper,” Helen breathes, transfixed at the utter train wreck that is her son’s floundering attempts to respond to Julia Rothman in a way that does  _ not _ sound suggestive.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent job by all accounts. But I won’t keep you here all day, you don’t want to miss dinner!” Julia says brightly. (Dinner is not for another two hours.)

Released, Yassen and Alex give the two women a parting farewell and walk rapidly towards the dormitories; Alex looks like he’s doing all he can to not break into a sprint. Yassen eyes the courtyard warily; he was almost certain he saw a flash of John Rider’s dark hair in a spiky evergreen tree clinging to the cliffside. When he’s certain the coast is clear as it will ever be, he leans over to whisper-sing in Alex’s ear. (Alex startles at this; most of his mind was occupied by replaying the more horrific moments of their encounter with Helen and Julia and he was not expecting Yassen to speak directly in his ear. Nor did he expect the mysterious disco music from the cove to  _ accompany _ him all the way to the Malagosto courtyard. He once again looks around for a source and sees none.)

[YASSEN]

Take it easy (take it easy)

Try to cool it boy

Take it nice and slow

Does your father know?

Yassen gently pushes Alex (whose face is still flaming) back to his room and moves back a few steps, as though those extra feet of distance will make a difference in what is turning out to be a very complicated mentor-mentee relationship. With one last heated, lingering look, Yassen spins on his heel and walks right out to parts unknown. Alex looks somewhat devastated. But this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. 

John has been watching the proceedings, a slightly unhinged-looking gleam in his eye.

_** Scene 5 - And they were ROOMMATES; November, somewhere in the Alps **_

Alex and Yassen are on an away mission. Together. After getting caught by Helen Rider and Julia Rothman, Yassen has backed off, cooled considerably, and retreated like a spooked wild animal. Alex hasn’t given up and he knows Yassen is into him because at this point, Alex is better at reading Yassen and he notices the slight tightening of the jaw, the taut muscles, the carefully measured glances, all the signs that he has to physically restrain himself from tackling Alex to the ground and doing terrible things to him in the middle of the Malagosto courtyard. But months have gone by and the first stage of Alex’s training is over; he achieved some of the highest marks Malagosto has ever seen (especially marksmanship; Gordon Ross congratulates Yassen on his very effective training methods and Yassen does not respond to the pointed hints that he might share his techniques for future classes) and passed graduation with flying colors (an unusually high-profile target, the director of operations for one of Great Britain’s intelligence agencies - Alex has strong suspicions that the man’s second-in-command ordered that hit, and nobody looked very sorry to see him go). 

In other news, after years of “strong suggestions” by the Board, Yassen Gregorovich has finally deigned to take on a partner. And that partner is Alex. And now that Alex has graduated, certain overprotective fathers have no choice but to let him go gallivanting around the world with the world’s best assassin. Who was definitely  _ not _ an ex-lover of his, John Rider is one hundred percent heterosexual, thank you very much, and pay no attention to the parade of hunky male Malagosto students, graduates, and some staff passing through his bedroom (and who Helen always insists on feeding breakfast afterwards. There is a years-long, very heated debate about whether more students come for the leg-up of John’s post-coital loose lips or for Helen’s legendary blueberry pancakes.)

While John broods in Malagosto, Alex and Yassen are busy working. It is late autumn, the Austrian Alps. Now that they are away from prying, paternal eyes, Alex is taking matters into his own hands. While Yassen deals with some last-minute details of the current operation, Alex slips into the hotel. Nothing fancy or large, but enough to feel secure for a night or two. Few people come to a tacky, second-rate hotel in an area this remote, especially during the off season. Alex goes straight to the hotel manager. Money (a lot of it) changes hands. And when Yassen Gregorovich walks into the hotel lobby, there is only one room left (one in a defensible location, Alex made sure of that, he’s not that careless, even if the one suite on the ground floor had a  _ very _ tempting jacuzzi) in the entire hotel. When the hotel manager explains that there is one room to a grinning Alex, Yassen looks simply resigned and takes the proffered key without argument.

“Guess we’re roommates!” Alex says. He sounds unreasonably cheerful. When they walk into the room that looks like a ski chalet porn set from the 70s - lots of faux leather and furs, a gas fireplace with an eye-wateringly tiled hearth, and one bed with way too many paisley pillows - Yassen stifles a sigh. (A sigh that he suspects would have sounded much closer to longing than annoyance.) He does not trust himself to speak. Instead, with the help of the synth beat and electric guitar that have begun to play loudly (Alex looks around frantically, but still cannot find a source for the instrumental accompaniment), he sings.

[YASSEN]

Well I can dance with you honey

If you think it's funny

Does your father know that you're out?

The next night, Alex stumbles into the hotel room, covered in glitter and bruises and his eyes a little too bright. Yassen is right behind him and catches him as he collapses, guiding him over to the bed. All in all, a successful mission, though it did not unfold strictly according to plan and Alex has the marks to show for it. Plans have a way of falling to pieces when Riders are around, Yassen reflects. He pushes the youngest Rider to take a seat on the edge of the mattress and begins to inspect him for injury. Yassen is valuable, but heaven help him if there is something wrong that Alex has successfully managed to hide. He’s done it before. Forget John and Helen Rider, or the Board who are so keen to have Alex take the helm for the next generation. Yassen could never forgive himself. Alex seems to read this in Yassen’s eyes because he eases up on the teasing and cooperates more willingly as Yassen inspects every inch of him for injury. Well. Not every inch.  _ Unfortunately _ . Gentle hands reach his face again -  _ didn’t Yassen already check that, not that he’s complaining _ \- and Alex leans into the touch. The hands still, one cupping his cheek, the other paused as it runs through his hair, almost as if Yassen was not conscious of what he was doing.

Alex’s smile turns impish. “I think I might have hypothermia,” he says very loudly. “You’ll have to keep me warm.” 

Now that Yassen thinks about it, Alex’s skin  _ is _ on the colder side and he  _ is _ shivering a bit. It  _ is _ November and he  _ did _ just run 5 kilometers in nothing but gold lycra shorts and body glitter. He flicks the switch on the gas fireplace - it is within arm’s reach of the bed, so he can see no reason to remove the hand in Alex’s hair - but he knows that skin-to-skin contact is the best way to make sure Alex is warm. Surely it would be less responsible to allow Alex to suffer tissue damage than to indulge his blatant come-ons (which have not abated over the past few months.) Better safe than sorry!

They crawl under the covers and Alex immediately snuggles up against Yassen’s chest, a contented smile on his lips. A hand comes over his hips to splay questionably low on Yassen’s back. In the name of health and safety, Yassen carefully wraps his arms around Alex, mindful not to press too hard on any bruises. One hand comes to rest on Alex’s back, the other cradling his head.  _ And if Yassen enjoys running his fingers through Alex’s hair, well _ … And then Alex shifts so Yassen’s hand, which had just been resting chastely on his mid back, suddenly relocates a lot lower and Yassen’s got a handful of lycra. Yassen steadfastly refuses to rise to the bait and, grabbing Alex’s hip, holds him in place. Alex squirms for a moment, then stops. Yassen’s stern expression says enough. Their faces are a breath away, just like the first night in Venice. “You are too cold,” he reminds Alex.  _ He is getting hotter by the minute _ . “We are doing this to prevent injury.”

“Are we?” asks Alex archly. His eyes gleam in the firelight, brown taking on a hint of amber. Yassen never thought of himself as much of a glitter man, but the specks of gold and silver on Alex’s face and torso make him look ethereal. 

_ Really Yassen, getting lost in Hunter’s son’s sparkly skin? You’re better than that _ , he scolds himself. “Yes,” he says out loud. 

Alex looks at him carefully, and then the hand that was planted firmly on one of Yassen’s butt cheeks moves up Yassen’s arm in a feather-light caress. He lightly touches the thin, pale scar on Yassen’s throat with his fingertips. “I can think of one or two more things we could do to generate some heat…”

There is a faraway look in Yassen’s eyes and a rapid crescendo in the disco music that has been playing in the background, two signs that Alex recognizes with alarm from the past few months. As Yassen’s fingers begin to tap to a groovy beat, Alex groans. “Not  _ this _ again.”

[YASSEN]

And I can chat with you baby

Flirt a little maybe

Does your father know that you're out?

Alex looks resigned. At this rate, Yassen will never finish the damn song, Alex will never get laid, and disco will be forever tarnished. But when the verse is over, Yassen doesn’t immediately fabricate an excuse to put some physical distance between himself and Alex like he usually does (Alex remembers the disgusting jam cocktail Yassen had insisted he absolutely  _ needed _ to make that very second during an earlier charged moment with a shudder.) Instead, Yassen pulls Alex  _ closer _ , until Alex’s head is tucked under his chin. In a few moments, they are asleep. John Rider watches the scene play out from the cover of the trees through his binoculars. His scowl is ferocious. Something needs to be done...

_** Scene 6 - The Hunter hunts (with little success); a fun jaunt across various global locations **_

John Rider has had enough. Seeing his son with - well, anyone - would naturally bring out his protective instincts, but Yassen Gregorovich? Deadly assassin, Hunter’s form of apprentice, and John’s ex-lover??? 

“One of many, dear, you can hardly expect Alex to avoid them all!” Helen calls out. John realizes he’s just said all this aloud.

“I meant, ah, ex-BROTHER! He was like a BROTHER to me! Because I am completely heterosexual and faithful to you, my beloved wife who is a woman! All this talk of brothers reminds me, I should call Ian. He’s probably forgiven me for joining SCORPIA by now!” 

Helen rolls her eyes, but replies in a placating voice “Whatever you say, dear.” 

Excellent. She’s already convinced. John congratulates himself on being  _ really _ good at hiding things. Back to dealing with his son’s suspicious relationship. Yassen Gregorovich simply will not do. John doesn’t have explicit proof yet, but with them partnering up on jobs, there is plenty of opportunity to carry on behind his back. The solution? Make sure they are NEVER able to go behind his back. John laughs grimly as he plants trackers in his son’s and former apprentice’s belongings. They won’t be able to keep this a secret from him  _ now _ ...

Some time later, we see Yassen and Alex are on a different mission. They both look confident, relaxed, the perfect team. They move like an efficient, deadly whirlwind. Another successful operation completed calls for a celebration. They go drinking and dancing in a sleek bar that’s all glass, chrome, and neon with exorbitantly expensive cocktails that look more like modern art than alcoholic beverages. Yassen is freer with his touch and his smiles; Alex’s hands roam up and down Yassen’s torso and Yassen doesn’t so much as flinch. Alex looks deliriously happy. An EDM remix of an ABBA song starts to blast from the speakers, and of course, Yassen is compelled to sing.

[YASSEN]

Well I can dance with you honey

If you think it's funny

We cut to John Rider, dressed in a parka, snow blowing in his face, as he squints at a GPS tracker. He is alone in what appears to be a vast, icy mountain range. The Himalayas. He ascends a mountain, getting closer and closer.

[YASSEN's voice echoes over the mountains]

Does your father know that you're out?

John stops and turns in a circle. The tracker - and his wayward son and former apprentice (and lover) - should be there. Right there. He looks down and spots something moving. He trudges towards it through the snow. He sees the telltale green flash of the tracker (in retrospect, that might have made it a little conspicuous, but it was a rush job.) It moves, and John realizes that something has gone very, very wrong. He promptly turns on his heel and flees down the mountain at top speed, pursued by a hungry snow leopard with the tracker dangling from one of its large paws.

An unknown amount of time has passed and Alex and Yassen sit in a private, candlelit alcove in a restaurant that is a mix of dark wood, antique gold, and flickering, jewel-colored bottles. It is cartoonishly romantic. Alex playfully feeds Yassen a spoonful of lemon granita from his own plate. Their conversation is occasionally interrupted by a burst of laughter - usually from Alex, but Yassen is not immune - and they stay until the candles burn low and most of the other patrons are gone. Yassen gently strokes Alex’s wrist. Alex’s eyes flicker down to their joined hands and back up to Yassen’s face. His soft smile grows wider at the expression he sees there. Yassen tugs him up from the booth and guides him out of the restaurant, never once letting go of his hand.

[YASSEN]

And I can chat with you baby

Flirt a little maybe

While Alex and Yassen walk in pools of moonlight on midnight streets, John has stowed away on a boat bound for… Guatemala, he thinks, all he knows is that if he never sees another tropical rainforest it’ll be too soon, for now he is trekking through the jungle. Despite his years at Malagosto and other hot locales, his constitution remains stubbornly English, and his clothes have been soaked with sweat since dawn. His machete hacks through the emerald-green vines and leaves with a lot more aggression than usual, sending indignant birds fluttering and lizards scurrying away. Alex ditched his tracker last time, that much is clear. But Yassen wouldn’t do something so childish with his own; if he knew about it, he would have destroyed it or left it, as proof to John that his intentions towards Alex are entirely innocent.

[YASSEN's voice seems to emit from a trio of squawking tropical birds]

Does your father know that you're out?

John’s GPS tracker (a little battered now, with scratches that look suspiciously like clawmark) shows that John should be right on top of them. Literally. He inspects the jungle floor. They could be in some sort of underground bunker. It’s not unheard of. But the entrance could be anywhere… John hears a rustling in the trees. He looks up. Hanging from a branch directly above John’s head is a huge snake, tongue tasting the air, the tracker blinking merrily from a string tied around its neck. Its flat head and gleaming brown scales are unmistakable. A fer-de-lance. John curses and starts to back away as the snake slithers towards him. After a minute of this, John turns and sprints into the jungle just in time as the snake snaps at his ankles.

_** Scene 7 - Malagosto **_

Following a string of successful assignments, Alex and Yassen are back at Malagosto on a well-deserved break. They have slipped away from the busy school to their secret cove; the golden afternoon sun casts long blue shadows over the craggy cliff rising out of the sea above them. The smooth stone remains of an ancient dock, worn down by millennia of feet, sea spray, and wind is now Alex and Yassen’s domain. As peppy disco plays quietly in the background, they cling to each other and dance. Their every shared touch and glance is imbued with an intimate ease. The pale rock face takes on an unearthly glow as the sun sinks lower in the horizon, but Alex and Yassen’s attentions are occupied far less by the beautiful scenery than by each other. Their dancing is a far mellower version of their heated grinding in Venice, but the feeling reflected in both their eyes is infinitely deeper.

[YASSEN]

Well I can dance with you honey

If you think it's funny

Does your father know that you're out?

As Yassen and Alex slowly stop their dance and start leaning closer, John Rider, covered in claw marks, snow, smashed tropical flowers, several spider’s webs (with spiders), and a jellyfish trains the scope of his sniper rifle on Yassen. John knows he is a good shot, and the bullet would go right through Yassen’s brain. Some blood and dura mater may end up on Alex, it would be a very abrupt end of a friendship that has spanned nearly two decades, and SCORPIA would not be pleased by the loss of their top operative, but it would teach the boy a valuable lesson about having a boyfriend old enough to be his father. And parenthood is all about sacrifices. As John prepares to pull the trigger, a soft hand rests on his shoulder.

He turns and sees Helen Rider. She gives him a smile and shakes her head. John sighs. Slowly, he lowers his rifle.

Down by the rippling, wine-dark waves, Yassen and Alex finally kiss as the sun sets over the Adriatic Sea in Malagosto.


End file.
